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On Reincarnation and Soul Memory

On Reincarnation and Soul Memory

MEMORIES REVISITED -

By: Victoria Pitt

Recovering, then proving past life memories is freeing – and life changing

Victoria visits the Manor of her soul memories and proves her story

I sat in the car watching my tall and handsome Alan walk away from me. I saw him approach the manor and climb the back steps and ring the bell. My heart was in my mouth. While it had felt alright to share the story with him I wasn’t sure I was ready to share the story with anyone else.

A women I presumed to be the housekeeper opened the door and I could see conversation taking place between them. My chest felt tight. Alan, the soul of discretion would not give away the situation I was sure, but what pretext could he give for ringing the bell? The conversation seemed to be going on for a long time. I tried to think of what reason he could give for our presence on the property? Imagine my panic when they both started towards the car. I wondered what Alan had said? What was I expected to say? I wound down the window, following Alan’s advice not to get out of the car. Alan introduced us and I was shocked to discover that the woman was in fact the manor owner, her name was the prestigious name we had been given at the Post Office. My mind was now in full flight but a little voice said, “Trust Alan!”

“I told Mrs Doe that you have reason to believe a past relative worked in this home.”Barely fumbling for words I told of a family historian who claimed to have letters from several centuries ago from a relative that stated she worked in Blank Manor. I explained she had been literate and wrote letters home to family. I told of how the letters had describes the interior of the house, the farm and the dairy. I told too how the woman had been a servant to the owners in the late 1700s.

The present owner stated there is a lot of mystery about the Manor in the late 1700. The home had been built in 1700 and had undergone many changes particularly in the late 1700s when there had seemed to be an infusion of money from a mysterious source other than the farm. She asked if I would like to come in and see the home. I was overwhelmed. “Yes, I would like that very much.” Alan’s hand was light on my shoulder as we walked towards the house. I knew how the interior of the house would look and expected that the kitchen would not be anything like it had been. It wasn’t at all the way I remembered it. It was brighter and more modern and it’s locale had been altered. I looked through the kitchen to a small room beyond and without thinking said,”someone painted the wood panelling in that room.” Looking puzzled Mrs Doe asked me how I knew. Trying to sound casual I mentioned that the relative had spoken of the dark almost black panelling. “Black panelling, I’ll show you black panelling.” Leading the way through the white painted room she took us to the first of several rooms with panelling so dark it required light in the middle of the day. Chills once again rippled through my body, I passed the staircase that I had climbed many times a day, every day during my servitude. I was awestruck. I wanted to carry a tea tray once more up the stairs and see the opposing bedroom doors that had been my daily destination.

As the owner led us through the house, she told us of the significant additions to the house that had taken place to the home in the late 1700s. The home she stated had been built in 1700 to be a farm manor but somewhere along the line the family fortunes had changed and with each infusion of money the home had been upgraded. There were griffons on the gateway pillars that were not original, columns on each side of the main door entrance which were known to have been placed there in the late 18th century. The gate to the estate, had changed from a simple farm entrance to an ellegant formal gate and columns. The farm would never have supported such expenditure on it’s own, the money had come from somewhere else.

This all agreed with what I had already told Alan, of family fortunes that rose on what advice and insight I had given them. The interior of the house was exactly as I had described it. My body rippled with cold and hot shivers. I wanted to stay there and just take it all in and remember how my life had been with Michael and the brief chunks of happiness that I had had there.

Without further and incredible explaination, I could not stay there any longer. The lady was already asking me questions that I could answer, but I knew she would not accept as simple information from letters received by my family in the late 1700s. We exited the side door again and then I looked towards the cattle sheds where Michael had been taken and given to the herdsman over 200 years ago. I saw the exact room that he had lived in that was part of the original barn. I wanted to go and look inside, I was sure if I did, the straw bed and low table would still be there. I wanted to go and look for the cottage that had been ours when we married, but the school now stood where the cottages had.

The lady leading us, walked through the back yard, and I knew we were going to the church where the family had worshiped. She opened a gate and we were back in the churchyard that Alan and I had just left. She let us in to the side part of the cemetary that we had been barred from, by the fence on our previous visit. This was the right church, but why did it not look familiar?

Was I buried here, was Michael, were the children? Where?

The answer follows…. keep reading…

The Proof Finally Comes…

We thanked her for all her help and walked back to the church once more. We once again explored the headstones that had been inaccessible only an hour ago. Once again the old stones were unreadable. For the moment the search for a grave or graves was futile. We re-entered the church. I could still not orient myself to it, there was nothing familiar, yet it was right. Alan purchased a small brochure containing the history of the church and gave it to me to keep. We walked back through the farm yard to our car. Unsaid words and questions on both our minds.

“Is it all like you remember it?” Alan, my unbelieving, unaccepting Alan, asked.

“Yes and no.” I said.

“What isn’t?” He wanted to know.

“The church confuses me and the big stone barns I don’t remember at all.”

“The stone barns are early 1800s, they would not have been there, the original dairy is from the 1700s, but not the barns.”

“Then it is only the church that confuses me.” I replied. Emotions that were indescribable filled me, I was very close to tears.

I had lived here, I had died here, I had loved here and I had lost here. I felt like the sad but happy onlooker into someone else’s life but I felt all the emotions myself. We waved at the woman who stood watching us from the farm manor kitchen window, and drove from the yard.

We had asked permission to take pictures and we drove slowly away only to turn back and get a better view of the estate. Alan got out of the car to take pictures, I turned to the brochure that Alan had given me in the church. When he returned, I believed that I had found the answer to the church puzzle. He stowed the camera and settled behind the wheel of the car. “listen to this!” I read him excerpts from the paper in my hand. Since 1865, when the church tower had fallen in, virtually every window, size, shape and stained glass had changed. The placement of the main altar had altered from one end of the building to the other. The location of the baptismal fount had changed as indeed had the fount. The pews had changed. Virtually everything inside that church had changed after my death, then the tower had changed as well. No wonder I didn’t recognize any of it.

I looked at this tall, non believer at my side, who had helped me find my past. Instead of deeming me weird, he had found the experience “interesting.”

“Is he Michael?” I asked, but I knew the answer before I asked. “No he isn’t Michael!” came my answer. “Then who is Michael?” But I would have to wait for that answer.

Did I find Michael? Yes I did, and it answered a lot of questions I had asked about the relationship I had with a much younger man. I just merely asked to be shown who Michael was and I was shown. It was that easy. Yet it is very hard too. I often look at this younger man and I wonder if he knows what he meant to me in another life. I do know that I mean a lot to him in this life. To him it is unexplainable and unsolvable, maybe one day in another life he will remember.

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